Things to go bump in the night
by Alaylith
Summary: Watson is alone in their flat, enjoying a silent night, until weird things happen and danger lurks in the darkness. Entry for Watson's Woes Challenge 26 (Ghost Story)


**A/N:** The livejournal community Watson's Woes started their new monthly prompt challenges and for October it was "Ghost Story".  
This is my entry (even though I do not really like any kind of Ghost story) and I hope you like it. :)

* * *

The night is dark and cold, no moon in the sky to shed any light and the wind howls through the deserted streets of London. It is the end of October and the weather already starts to change from autumn to early winter.

Watson is glad to be inside, sitting in his armchair in front of a warm fire, a book in his hands and his wounded leg rests on the ottoman.  
Besides the sounds of the fire the house is silent - Mrs. Hudson has gone to visit a friend and Holmes is somewhere working on a case.

Watson does not exactly know what this case is about, he had many patients to visit the last few days and as such has rarely seen his friend.  
But he knows that if there were any risks or he would be otherwise needed Holmes would have told him.

For the moment Watson just enjoys the silence and his free time, intending to relax for a bit more before going to bed. It is already nearing midnight and it does not seem as if Holmes is going to return this night.

Just as Watson is about to turn the page, there is a sudden rattling noise, quite loud in the silent house. He lowers his book with a frown and listens, the noise starts again and he turns his head to look to the door.  
The noise sounds a lot like the house door and Watson wonders if Mrs. Hudson might have forgotten to lock it and now the wind is rattling the door in its hinges.  
The sound comes again, continuing without a pause and Watson rises from his armchair to go and check.

There is almost no light in the hallway, only a bit light of the street lamps outside is able to shine through the windows and Watson keeps a careful hand on the banister to secure his footing.  
He climbs down the stairs, realising that it is really the door that rattles and just as he puts his foot down from the last step, the sound suddenly quietens.

He reaches the door and turns the knob. The door is locked and Watson rattles it lightly. The sound is not as loud as it had been before, so it should not have been the wind.  
Thinking about it, Watson believes it sounded more like a person was rattling the door.

It may have been a drunk or a prank, so Watson turns around to go back up. As his foot touches the first step, the door suddenly gives a loud creaking rattle as if it were blown of the hinges and he spins around.  
With three quick steps he is back at the door, unlocks it and yanks it open, then blinks as all he can see is a silent and empty street.

He checks the street for a moment longer, then steps back inside and locks the door. He takes slow steps back to the stairs and climbs one step, his eyes watching the door.  
Silence once again fills the house and Watson realises that he must look quite silly with one foot on the step and he looking at the door like a predator.

He huffs a laugh, taking note to ask Mrs. Hudson to have the door checked and returns to his armchair. The fire has burned down to the embers and Watson considers between going back to his book or up to his bed.  
He walks back to his armchair to check how many pages are left until the next chapter, but then stops as he sees the book lying open on the ground.

The book was on his seat and closed when he left, Watson is sure of it. He bends down to take it up again, but his eyes catch the title of the chapter. It is one of the earlier chapters and he read it two days ago.  
Holmes and he were both home that evening and Watson remembers mentioning this chapter to Holmes. The book is a cheap detective story and this chapter was about the murder.  
It amuses Watson greatly how Holmes starts to bristle when Watson asks him about his thoughts to the crimes in his books and as such Watson tends to give Holmes the details of a crime as he reads about it.

He clearly remembers Holmes' sole response to the victim's behaviour in the chapter.  
_" Careless idiot, ignored everything that happened around him and as such walked directly into the trap. Even if you can not understand something going on around you, Watson, never ignore the hints! "_

Watson chuckles, closing the book and lays it on the table. If Holmes would have said the same about the rattling door and the book being at a different place?

A loud thud makes him jump and his heart races in his chest. He whirls around, but no one is in the room and it takes him a moment to see that one of Holmes' indexes, which stood on the corner of Holmes' desk, has fallen to the ground.  
Willing his heart to slow down, Watson walks towards Holmes' desk to pick up the book. Just like his novel the book has fallen open and with an impression of foreboding Watson's eyes flitter over the entries.

It is Holmes' index of criminals, a very thorough collection of names, crimes, methods and other information Holmes was able to gather about them.  
The open page shows the names beginning with H, like Henderson the thief or Hilton the gamer, both men Holmes had caught. But there were also names of criminals which Holmes knows about, but has not yet been able to catch them.  
One such name looks like a recent entry, the ink not as faded as the others.

_" HUNT, WILLIAM - age 39, thief and murderer. Chokes victims until they are unconscious or dead. Attacks from behind. Enters houses in the night by breaking a window. "_

Beneath the name is a list of possible victims and Watson recognizes one of the names, having read about the murder a few days ago in the newspaper. Is Holmes newest case connected to this man?

Just as Watson's heart is slowing down, one of the floorboards in his room above creaks lowly.

A cold shudder races down his spine and Watson straightens his back. He no longer cares about appearing silly by being freaked out by these little things, but frankly he **is** a bit scared. With slow, silent steps he goes over to his desk and retrieves his gun, feeling more secure with it in his hands. Checking the gun, he turns to walk up to his room.

He does not make a simple sound on the steps, having learned after so many years where he has to step to be silent. Reaching the second floor he can see his open door and he listens to any sounds an intruder might make. But there is only silence and he can sense no movement in the room.  
Watson carefully peeks into the room and it is empty.

There is no other place to hide on this floor and no one came down the steps since the creak. So nobody could have been up here.  
Watson slumps against the wall, tiredness flowing through his limbs. It is late and it was a long, tedious evening. Because of his work he only slept a few hours the last several nights and now his overworked mind was playing tricks on him.  
It is high time for him to go to bed and he will definitely not be reading detective stories this late or when he is alone in the house.

The chiming clock confirms the late hour, as it announces 12 o'clock and the beginning of a new month and Watson is just about to fall on his bed to go to sleep.

The shattering of glass immediately draws him up again and any tiredness disappears as Watson recognizes the sound as the breaking of a window.  
One of their windows downstairs.

His heightened senses make his skin prickle, but Watson could swear that while for the last few hours he was able to feel the house being empty, he can now feel a foreign presence within their home. There is no other sound, but he knows that now someone's inside their flat.  
Thanks to the earlier occurences he was not only in possession of his gun, but also outside of their flat and out of reach of any imminent danger. Would he have been downstairs who knew what fate would have awaited him.

He carefully starts to prowl down the stairs, his gun held at the ready and his ears listening to all and every sounds in the house. He reaches their sitting room and carefully looks inside. The windows are not damaged and the fire is almost gone and he slowly takes a step inside, seeing no one.  
So the broken window should be in Holmes' room and -

A light breeze touches his ear like a whisper and he is only able to prepare himself for a second, when a thick arm chokes him and pulls him back into another body.  
Watson struggles, never letting go of his gun and he can feel the man tightening his grip.

With a sudden clarity he remembers the entry in Holmes' index and also the few lessons of self-defense Holmes insisted in giving him.  
He recalls those lessons now and uses his strength to twist around, loosening the hold on his neck and painfully rams his elbow into the other man's stomach. The man - Hunt, Watson is sure of it - falls back with a painful gasp and then looks up to directly look at Watson's gun trained on his head.

"Now, Mr. Hunt," Watson states calmly. "To what do I owe this questionable pleasure of having you visit this ghastly night?

It is early morning when Watson and Holmes can finally sit down in their chairs and relax.

Holmes was after Hunt for the last few days and finally cornered him last evening. In their fight Hunt got a hold of Holmes and choked him 'till he was unconscious, but in his haste luckily did not make sure that Holmes was actually dead.  
Then Hunt wanted to see if Holmes had any evidence left in his flat and kill Watson to make sure that he would not share any information.

After Holmes regained consciousness he immediately called Scotland Yard and they raced towards Baker Street, just to find Watson calmly sitting in his armchair, pointing his gun at a bound and gagged Hunt sitting on the floor in front of him.  
Now the Yarders have finally left, the shards are swept together and the broken window is barred against the wind.

"But that your imagination was running wild last night was actually quite lucky in the end," Holmes says after lightening his pipe. Watson has told him everything, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and Holmes' only reaction was an amused grin.  
"If not for your agitation, you would have never taken your gun or would have been prepared for an attack."

Watson nods, his eyes lowered and unwilling to make any further comments. Last night was nerve-wracking and he can not wait to finally lay down and sleep and to forget this night ever happened.

"Watson," Holmes calls gently and Watson - always obedient to his friend's voice - looks up. Holmes is smiling lightly, a hint of tease in his eyes, but also warmth and a touch of relief.  
"Whatever caused your agitation last night, you did everything right. I told you to trust your instincts and to never ignore something tingling your mind. If you would have ignored anything that happened last night, you quite possible would have been dead now.

I clearly remember how my last thought before I lost consciousness was that I wish that I could warn you. And if any ghost heard that wish I admit I am thankful."

"Ghost?" Watson asks in astonishment and Holmes barks a short laugh. "My dear friend, were you not aware of last night's date? If there is a time for things to go bump in the night, it would have to be the night of All Hallow's Eve, don't you agree?"  
Watson blinks, while Holmes goes back to his pipe and Watson rethinks last night's happenings.

The things that happened were like hints, warning him of the approaching danger and they were hints only Holmes would have been able to give him as only he knew the significance of them, like the chapter of his book or Holmes' index.  
And now thinking about it Watson is quite sure that the whisper which reached his ears just before Hunt attacked him, sounded a lot like his friend's voice calling his name.

Another shudder runs down his spine and Watson rubs his hands in a sudden chill. Some things should be better left alone and he is just thankful that it was not truly his friend's ghost visiting him last night.  
But remembering Holmes' words, that his last wish was to warn him, Watson wonders...

A low sound reaches them and both men look at each other with wide eyes. "How does a walk sound to you, Watson?" Holmes asks, already getting out of his seat.  
"A capital idea, Holmes," Watson answers, his tiredness gone and he follows Holmes out of the door.

Things to go bump in the night indeed.


End file.
